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1933 


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Albert’s cats had a .large blue dish of milk for breakfast. 







FARM FOLK 


O nce upon a time there was a sturdy little boy who 
lived in Belgium. Every morning after he milked the 
cows, he gave his cats a large blue dish of milk for breakfast. 

One bright summer morning his mother said to him, 
“Albert, I want you to take my butter to market for me. 
We shall make it into pats, and wrap it carefully. Your 
little gray donkey will carry it for you.” 

Albert had planned to do some very special things 
that bright summer morning. But when his mother asked 
him to take her butter to market, he washed his face and 
hands, put on his green hat, and said he would be glad 
to go. 


First Albert’s mother made the butter into pats. Albert 
helped her wrap them in clean white linen. The linen was 
wet to keep the butter cool. They tied the butter into 
packages and put the packages into sacks. Then they 
fastened the sacks to the little gray donkey’s back. 

Albert said good-by to his mother. Away he went 
with the little gray donkey just ahead of him, carrying the 
sacks of butter. 

They walked along the country road for two long hours. 
Sometimes the little donkey seemed to get tired. Then he 
would stand perfectly still, and no matter how hard Albert 
pulled on the reins, the little donkey just stood—until he 
felt like walking on. 



The little donkey just stood —until he felt like walking on. 






When the little donkey stood perfectly still, Albert often 
wished he were doing anything in the world but taking his 
mother’s butter to market. 

Soon Albert saw an old man sitting under a tree. 
Beside him was his shepherd’s crook. The old man was 
eating his noon meal while his dog sat quietly watching 
the grazing flock. 

“My,” thought Albert, “I wish I could sit under a tree 
all day long and watch sheep!” 

“My,” thought the old man as he watched Albert and 
his donkey, “I wish I were a boy again, taking my mother’s 
butter to market.” 

Albert and his donkey walked on. Sometimes the 
donkey stopped, and then there was nothing for Albert to 
do but stop also. 


* ' 



Albert saw an old man sitting under a tree. 


MMaMiaM 












Farther on and across the road, Albert saw a man 
plowing with a large, strong horse. Albert watched him 
turn straight, even furrows, one after another. 

Back and forth across the field went the man and 
his horse. 

"What a fine horse,” said Albert to himself. “I wish 
I were a man driving a strong horse and plowing all day 
long instead of only a little boy going to market.” 

But the man who had seen Albert and his donkey 
thought to himself, “My, I wish I were a boy again, taking 
my mother’s butter to market.” 



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1 





Albert saw a man plowing with a large, strong horse. 










Albert and his donkey came upon a goose girl sitting 
beside the road. She was watching her flock of geese. 

“Good morning, little boy,” she called. “Where are 
you going this nice morning?” 

“Good morning to you,” answered Albert politely. “I 
am taking my mother’s butter to market, but the road is 
dusty and I am tired. I wish I could sit in the grass all 
day long as you do, and watch the geese!” 

“Oh, little boy, you don’t know how l wish I could take 
my mother’s butter to market,” answered the goose girl. 



A goose girl was sitting beside the road 









“It’s strange,” thought Albert to himself, “that I’d like 
to be the goose girl with nothing to do but sit in the grass 
and watch geese. Yet she would like to take her mother’s 
butter to market.” 

As Albert and his donkey walked on, they passed a 
small white cottage. A little boy stood in the yard near 
a rabbit pen, feeding his rabbits. 

Albert counted the rabbits. There were six. One rabbit 
was black, three were white, and two were brown. 

“What pretty rabbits,” called Albert to the little boy. 
“I’ve always wanted a rabbit, and I’ve never had one. You 
have six!” 

“But what a fine gray donkey you have,” answered 
the little boy with the rabbits. “I’ve always wanted a donkey 
just like yours.” 














The two boys might have talked for a long time but 
again the little gray donkey trotted forward. Following him 
hurriedly, Albert called good-by over his shoulder to the 
little boy. 

As Albert walked on, he watched a flock of birds flying 
high over the trees. He said to himself, “It would be fun 
to be a bird flying all day long in the blue sky. I could 
eat whenever I was hungry —” Then he stopped. He shut 
his eyes tight and pictured for himself the long winter days 
when the winds blew and little birds huddled close on a 
fence, cold and hungry, their food buried under deep snows. 

“No, I think I’d rather be a boy taking my mother’s 
butter to market than any bird,” he decided slowly. 



The little birds were huddled close on a fence. 





Albert opened his eyes to watch a robin redbreast. 
The little bird lit on a picket fence and began to sing. 

On the other side of the fence Albert saw a little girl 
with yellow curls, sitting in the shade of an old apple tree, 
feeding a baby goat. 

Beside her, in the shade of the tree, stood her mother 
knitting a long black stocking. Sometimes she stopped 
and looked far off across the meadow as though she were 
waiting for someone. 

“Perhaps she is waiting for the men to come home 
for dinner,” thought Albert to himself. 

The little bird sat on the fence and sang until Albert 
was out of sight. 



The little bird sat on the fence and sang. 













In another hour Albert and his donkey came to the 
village park at the edge of the town. In the center of the 
park was a blue lake and on the lake swam white ducks. 

The little gray donkey seemed to know that the market 
place was across the village square, for there he went and 
stopped, without one word from Albert. 

The old woman who always bought Albert’s butter 
helped him take the pats of butter out of the sacks. She 
weighed it and wrote on a sheet of paper how many pounds 
of butter Albert had brought and how much she could pay 
for each pound. Then she gave Albert the money. 

After thanking the old woman politely, Albert tied the 
money carefully in his handkerchief. 



In the center of the park was a blue lake 
















After Albert had given his donkey a drink of clear, 
cool water at the village pump and had taken a drink him¬ 
self, he ate an apple and some little cakes that his mother 
had given him. Then Albert and his little gray donkey 
started home. 

He passed through the village park along the shores 
of the blue lake. He passed a farm where he heard pigeons 
cooing softly as they settled themselves in the pigeon house. 
He passed the house where lived the little boy and his six 
rabbits. 

Far over a hill Albert thought he saw the goose girl 
driving her flock of geese toward home. He passed the 
field where he had seen the man plowing with the strong 
horse. But the man had gone home, the day’s work finished. 
The plowed field stretched out in straight, even furrows as 
far as Albert could see. 




The gray pigeons settled themselves in the pigeon house. 









Perhaps the little gray donkey knew it was growing 
late. Perhaps he was only hungry, but he trotted home 
without one stop. 

As Albert and his donkey turned into their own gate, 
barnswallows were flying to their homes under the eaves. 

Through the window he could see his mother putting 
dinner on the table. To let her know that he had returned, 
Albert began to whistle this tune: 


w- IJ1 r-?TT 















No longer did Albert wish that he were someone else. 
In fact he was very, very glad to be Albert—home at last 
—with dinner waiting. 














The barnswallows were flying to their homes under the eaves. 





























































































































♦ 














































